


Soul-Hurt

by adorabias



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, mind-control au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorabias/pseuds/adorabias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Loki’s staff works. It was decided then that they would not be equals. However who else but Tony Stark could so easily meet the gaze of a god?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blessed

“How will your friends have time for me when they’ll be so busy fighting you?”

 

It would be too kind to say that a shiver ran down Tony’s spine, because that would imply that it was a fleeting feeling. No, it was something else entirely to have ice clutch at every nerve on his spinal cord and seize him. The god stepped forward, a mask in place of unyielding eyes, daring Tony to look away.

 

Perhaps the clearest indicator of fear was when Tony did just that.

 

Last he’d locked eyes with Loki, he was inviting him inside, beckoning him to follow Tony right into the tower that he called his home. He’d offered a drink and he’d allowed his mouth to ramble as it had, taunting the god and provoking him. There was no shame, there was no remorse. There was also no air left in Tony’s lungs as he swiftly remembered Fury’s secondary demand to finding the Tesseract.

 

_“And can you tell me how it turned two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys?”_

 

So he tore his eyes away, flickering down to the scepter that was approaching him and he quickly remembered something that he had read in a book. When he was a child, they said that responses to hazardous situations could be Fight or Flight. An amendment in later years had changed it to Fight, Flight, or Freeze. He’d tossed it aside thinking they were just trying to excuse what happened in horror movies where dumb teenagers would just stand in the same spot when something was coming at them.

 

This was hardly the way that Tony wanted to find truth to that statement, his joints completely locked up and he couldn’t even take a step back. He needed the armor, where was his suit now? What was he without the suit? This is what he was without the suit. He was paralyzed, terrified, and ice cold.

 

Loki’s staff gave off a flare like a will-o-wisp and a whisper that stood on the razor thin edge of a threat and a promise, its menacing glow reflecting right back in Tony’s eyes as his breath hitched.

 

Fight, Flight, or Freeze. Fight, Flight, or Freeze. He was an Avenger, he should be flying or fighting—

 

Here he was freezing.

 

It shot at him like a rudely woken serpent, curling its way through the thin veneer of cloth right into the heart of his arc reactor and he could feel the energy coiling up tight. There was a flash of light from within his chest, as if there was a miniature Uni-beam right in Tony’s own body, and if he was not suddenly shuddering from the intrusion of alien energy, he would have caught the surprised look in even the eyes of the god.

 

The snake continued to slither through his veins and he had not recalled a feeling like this – of rampant, searing, bone-chilling pain – since he last used Palladium in his chest. It reached every part of him, to the tips of his fingers, and he felt it nestle its way into his brain.

 

His brain, Tony Stark’s brain, was the one that everyone wanted to get their hands on. He had created the finest weapons of mass destruction that the world had ever seen and he had tapped into what his father made – that unlimited power source that he had started to suspect ever since he had taken a good look at the Tessearct – and miniaturized it, making it so much more efficient for storing energy. 3 gigajoules per second was the crude creation that he came up with in a cave to save his own life. Then he moved on from there, privatizing world peace, and allowing the world to rest in the palm of his hand because he was Tony Stark and he was untouchable because everyone wanted him.

 

Tony Stark himself was not the golden goose; he had figured out so long ago that it was not him that everyone wanted. No, they could do without the husk of flesh that he inhabited and ruined every three months. All they wanted was his mind.

 

Now Loki had it.

 

A crude smile was back in place as he observed, looking at the bright blue of the mortal’s eyes. It was a completely luminescent hue of blue—something that even the sea, for all its creative and provoking capabilities, could not compare to. The color was the best indicator that something had buried itself deep inside of Stark.

 

What happened when the windows to the soul simply reflected back?

 

* * *

 

 

twenty minutes earlier.

 

“Glad to see you back with us, Agent Barton,” Tony chirped as he tore apart clouds, racing as fast as he could to get back to the tower. However there was still part of him that couldn’t be completely at ease with settling in with someone who had taken multiple shots at them just a few hours prior. Natasha had given her okay, but Tony hadn’t trusted her judgment since he was declined for the Avengers Initiative.

 

That was a little hard to forget, now especially as he was busting his ass to go save Manhattan.

 

“Well can’t blame me to want to be on the winning team, Stark,” his ear piece buzzed and Tony could at least appreciate that this guy could take what was probably a prelude to verbal thrashing in stride.

 

Maybe that’s why he was able to tone it down a little. “Sensible. How’re your vitals looking though? Every part of you working? No alien baby just waiting in your belly and dying to burst out of your chest mid-battle? Because I’d like a little notice in advance so I could take video and put it on YouTube, at least.”

 

“Well, I don’t think I’m an expecting mother,” Barton replied from the Quinjet, not even a slight rustle in his voice, the bastard. “Just a residue feeling like I’m waking up from a long sleep.”

 

“I don’t think you’re authorized to operate heavy machinery then, sir. If we wanted to crash, we would’ve had Cap drive,” Tony quipped and ignored the injured noise that came in through his ear. “But what, you went Sleeping Beauty on us even when your body was being used?”

 

“No… not quite.” And for the first time there was a pause in between Barton’s sentences. His voice came in a few seconds later, “It feels like they pull you out. Stuff a bunch of other stuff inside of your head, force you to obey… I’ve got vague glimpses of what I did, but everything’s still trying to rearrange itself in my head. Like puzzle pieces trying to order themselves. I’m back in, but everything else is still trying to accommodate me.”

 

Tony made a vague noise of acknowledgement, but his thoughts were suddenly refocused as the New York skyline came into view. “Then I think you’re going to have a double-date with me, Banner, and an MRI when we’re done with this, Mister.”

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Stark. If we’ve still got one anyway.”

 

“Cute,” Tony snorted right before he ended that communication line. It took only a moment for him to open up another one, but to someone that he couldn’t help but trust infinitely more.

 

“Did Barton’s story seem to correspond with the SHIELD security feed we had on his room, JARVIS?”

 

“He said much of the same effect to Miss Romanoff, sir. We have no cause to believe that he lied to her and she did not report any strange behavior to Mister Rogers, either,” the familiar voice relayed information. Tony had him going through all the security feeds since the attack on the Helicarrier to bring him up to speed.

 

A noise that was a clear cross between an exhale and a sigh escaped Tony’s mouth, leaving him just murmuring, “I guess I’ll have to accept that. So what’s your take on his story about getting pulled out and put back together?”

 

“Even I have only had my consciousness downloaded into other surfaces, sir. I have not quite been dismantled in such a way.” And only true Artificial Intelligence could give Tony a metaphor like that, so he just gave a soft ‘heh’ in response.

 

“No, it doesn’t sound comfortable, does it?

 

* * *

 

This wasn’t the first time that Tony had been held captive, not by a long shot.

 

He could remember when he was a little boy and got kidnapped, restrained by nothing more than rope and a blindfold as the villainous men who took him sent a ransom out to his father. In comparison, the memory of being trapped in the dank cave, having been in chains momentarily and held at gunpoint as there was no one left to send a ransom to, was a lot more familiar. Tony was held prisoner by the world enough.

 

Even more recent still, he recalled a piece of him being yanked right out of his chest. The terrible privilege that he only acknowledged as terrible at the time was taken from him as his body shut down in response. There were the aching, precious minutes in the elevator until he stumbled out into his lab, burdened by his own weakness and the shrapnel that his hands touched in creation, after his heart in keen pursuit to bring about his destruction. Tony had been bound in chains by his own body.

 

None of it compared to this. There was no comparison to watching a predator take a curious step closer, hearing the words slip off of that silver tongue and feeling the fright crawl into his nerves but not being able to respond to it. Words rattled off of Tony’s own tongue and he would have said before in jest that ‘sometimes, I don’t think about what comes out of my mouth.’ This was something else bypassing his will completely.

 

It was the first time in which Tony was completely trapped in the cage of his own mind.

 

There was something wrong, he decided. This was not what Barton meant when he said that he got pulled out, because here was everything perfect in Tony’s head. There was his consciousness, not even drifting off for a nap, forced to watch as he acted subserviently to the one that they had identified as a threat. The bile worked its way up his throat, but he knew that there would be nothing done about it.

 

It was a mental feeling of sickness, not a physical manifestation of it. It was vertigo as opposed to an ear infection. It was a headache as opposed to a concussion. It was heartbreak as opposed to a stab wound.

 

He knew which he would’ve preferred.

 

* * *

 

 

“I do applaud the entertaining light show,” Loki began in a slow drawl, his eyes slipping over the man that stood before him now, “but are you quite done?”

 

Identifying the cause of the sudden display wasn’t hard upon closer inspection. Despite the dark shirt that the man wore, now that Loki was seeking to look for it, there was the soft dent against the fabric that denoted metal that lay beneath. Oh, how little he knew about this ironed one. It would seem that he was half-made of the machines that he was so fond of. Why, it was almost hypocritical all the grief that he had given Loki for being foreign when he was acting as a monstrosity walking his own streets.

 

“Should be,” the other responded, voice just as chipper and seemingly nonchalant as it always was. But now it lacked the tone of defiance that he had been addressing Loki with, and good for him. Perhaps now he would live through the time they would be speaking. “It was just your disco stick interfering with the arc reactor.”

 

Clear, green eyes surveyed the landscape. None of the pesky SHIELD contraptions were coming hurtling just yet and it was still a few minutes before Selvig would open the portal under Loki’s command. His gaze swept again to the man who was now looking at him eagerly, though remarkably obediently. First, he decided that subservience was quite the good look on him. Second, he thought that a bit more information reconnaissance wouldn’t do him any harm.

 

So with a light lilt in his tone, he questioned, “Arc reactor?”

 

“It’s a generator,” was the immediate answer. “Technology from my father for clean, sustainable energy. The one that I have right here,” he tapped the hard surface that Loki had only heard earlier, “is said to be able to power my heart for… what, twenty lifetimes now? Something like that. Except… now that I think about it, my old man was the one who found your little blue and glowing box of magic. Chances are that he probably reverse-engineered what he found from that and harnessed the huge expanse of energy, mimicking it with Earth metals and materials to create the arc reactor. The energy from the original and the duplicate probably clashed, producing excess photons as they tried to accommodate each other, resulting in temporarily making me a lava lamp.”

 

Perhaps this one wouldn’t be impossible to deal with, even with the mouth that he had. So Loki merely narrowed his eyes and sunk his teeth into the meat of the subject, “And what effect will that have on you?” If Iron Man would not obey, he might as well be thrown out one of his gaudy glass windows.

 

“None that stop me from loving you head to toe, honey.” Mind control apparently had no effect on Tony’s actual speech patterns, though he at least sought amendment when Loki did not seem impressed with his answer. “Genuinely speaking, I should still follow orders but there will be inner turmoil. I’m not in LaLaLand like Barton was. Wide awake and a little horrified, really.”

 

There was really no way to make Loki smile quite like being told that he not only had a slave, but a slave who absolutely hated it but was obedient nonetheless. He could not see into Stark’s soul and pick out the broken pieces of the man he was, now having to answer to the one he was threatening just moments ago, and there wasn’t a single ounce of regret or remorse on his face. No, the man’s lips were still curled into an easy-going smile, his eyes trained upon Loki as he remained the perfect picture of wealth, luxury, and relaxation.

 

“While I think I can go without your love,” Loki’s voice took on the aggression of a lion for all of a second at the word. Oh, all the love he had known was a lie, after all. He would accept no more façade or semblance of it, especially not from this man who likely knew love even less than him. (Except that was a lie because Loki knew. Loki knew that none would ever be so unloved as him.) “I suppose I can take your devotion, if you would be so kind to give it, Stark.”

 

“Tony.”

 

The god’s brows knitted together, the mask slipped for just a moment at the sudden response that was not immediate acceptance or understanding. His mouth found the word that he had already repeated too many times that day. “What?”

 

“Call me Tony,” the man prompted as he tilted his chin upwards toward Loki.

 

Ah, that wasn’t particularly fair now, was it?

 

Some piece of Loki seized. Not even Barton had dared to be this familiar with him, sticking strictly professionally to Agent Barton. Yet if he sought it out enough, he could see the softening of Stark’s features. It was an innocent prompt. Innocence had no place here, Loki was certain. It could only be a lie, a ruse, something to perhaps ease the tension and therefore the god into a false sense of security.

 

Failing to acknowledge that none could lie or disobey under the control of his staff, Loki refused to be lied to. After all, the times when you believed were the times when you hoped, and hope had allowed the glass floor beneath his feet to shatter and welcomed him straight into the abyss.

 

“Stark,” and he glowered, pointedly meeting the disappointed look that the man gave him and further crushing it beneath his feet. “Your orders are simple. Obliterate this city and kill the rest that you called the Avengers. Do we have an accord?”

 

“You know, you could really take a few classes in modern English. If you flit your way down the street, you may be able to squeeze a class or two at NYU before it gets destroyed,” the man chirped, quick to come back from being kicked down it would seem. “But yeah, I get it. Wreak a little havoc, cause a little mayhem. What after that?”

 

Loki gave a slight inclination of his head. “Do you truly believe that I would tell you?”

 

“Well you know, business partners and all, even though I guess cartels are pretty illegal so it’s not like we can start any real canoodling—”

 

“We are not partners,” hissed the god as he took another step forward and glowered down upon Tony. “There is nothing even remotely resembling equal footing between you and I. You, you are nothing more than the ground beneath my feet. A stepping stone in order for me to stand properly atop this wretched rock that you call Earth. So do not dare think for even a moment that you and I are on the same level. No, you are so beneath me that the very idea is laughable. So humble yourself and pledge your absolute allegiance to me like the sniveling, groveling dog that you are.”

 

The expression on Stark’s face was surprised for a long, long moment. Stupefied into a state of shock before the understanding finally seemed to dawn upon his paltry, mortal mind. That was when Loki welcomed it; he welcomed the crumbling look on Tony’s face even as he managed to hold it all together. Ah, it was something that Loki had seen in the mirror too many times to not enjoy on someone else. Rich and fatal like a vial of poison.

 

Loki drank it all in with a satisfied smirk, right until the other fell to one knee and sought a grasp of his hand. Able to respect a healthy taste for the dramatic, Loki deigned to settle his fingers in the rough palm of the worker.

 

“I will serve you,” the words sounding foreign to both of them on the slick tongue of Stark. It was a delight to imagine just how sick Tony’s suppressed soul must feel, forced to watch the show of subservience.

 

Taking no consideration for that, the kneeling man took the deity’s hand, pressing the knuckles of it to his forehead. It took a moment for Loki to reach far into the recesses of his experience with Midgard, searching for the understanding of this action before it struck him.

 

A blessing from god.


	2. Cursed

Beginnings will be the end of Tony Stark.

Ironic since he is the creator, the inventor, the engineer that hopes to lead the world into a new age of technology and cleaner, better, safer living. However, it's always been burrowed deep into his mind that it would be what he creates, what he does, and what he gives that would bring about his end—factual as the shrapnel clawing at his heart that was born of his own hands.

There would be no better or more fitting end than for Tony Stark to be the cause for his own demise. Why, his ego would not have it any other way.

However the rules had been changed here. Did it still count as dying by his own hand if he was no longer the one in charge of his body and was barely hanging on to the edge of his mind? Could blame be placed upon the god that was now guiding him about like his owner, his master since he was the one who put him in this situation?

Tony's brilliant mind tried to twist and turn the situation, searching for a way to decipher some sort of formula to help him determine his statistics and chances of being able to escape this situation alive.

Bound in metaphorical chains and hidden from the outside world, the genius found himself truly caught for once. There was no way to call JARVIS from here or any of the other Avengers, no way to insist that they should sooner incapacitate him than listen to anything coming out from his mouth.

For Tony's paranoia was not something that he was in denial about. He'd prepared in case he would ever have to again fight another teammate in case Loki's scepter got to any of them. And just as he was able to accept facts – able to see and hear what occurred around him as well as accept the vast expanse of information that the Tesseract seemed to inject into his veins and have flow to his brain – he assumed that this darker, unleashed yet so  _very_  leashed version of himself was able to do the same.

Sinking down and desperately wishing that he was able to close his eyes against everything occurring around him, Tony hoped that someone else had the brain to be able to figure out the one solid truth of his entire existence:

Tony Stark would be the end of either himself  _or_  everyone around him.

Whichever came first.

 

* * *

 

A soft gust of wind brushed against the god, marking his welcome as he stepped out onto the landing pad that most certainly wasn't designed for him. Despite everything, he can come to appreciate standing here – high, high, almost far too high above everyone else – and looking over the expanse of the city. There's no helping the mild smirk that plays upon his lips—

Just as he catches some strange item that was just tossed his way.

Turning his head and uncurling his fingers, he sees some sort of strange Midgardian device, or so he can only assume since the one who threw it is none other than his newly ensnared toy: Tony Stark, who has been accredited far and wide as an inventor of sorts.

They're small pieces of equipment, circular and filled with holes something like the containers the mortals used for their condiments that they would shake and have the spices fall out of their glass entrapment. Yet he made a slight motion of a shake and nothing came out. Not a surprise since they were quite flat indeed, and no larger in diameter than a fingernail.

His curious gaze fell upon Stark to explain.

There was a moment's delay despite the fact that the man was looking directly at him, and though Loki expected some sort of expression of amusement or mockery – not many could truly claim to have more knowledge than a god – there was only a mildly surprised and befuddled look.

In response, the god narrowed his eyes. During his stay in Midgard, he'd quickly learned that not many could follow Tony Stark's thought process. It was an entirely different affair to have this confirmed and a blow to his ego to be lumped in with the 'many' that classified the brain of the man before him as a complete and total enigma.

Though unintentional, there was something pleasing about the way that the mortal seemed to think that the glare was intended to express anger at the silence. So his mouth was quick to move—

"Communication device. There's no mind link that connects us, right? Or even if there is one supposed to be settling in the back of my mind, there's bound to be interference with the arc reactor energy," he explained easily and gave a rise and fall of his shoulders in a shrug, "It's hard to be a proper soldier without orders."

Despite the willingness of the man to serve, Loki was never one to just let an opportunity to slip by. "Oh, no one ever said that you're a soldier, Stark," he let his words slide like a knife, "The position of knight is a bit much even for you."

Loki's reward was exquisite. It was clear that the mortal's expectations had already dropped since he'd tried to claim that they were partners. So instead he dropped his rank to that of a soldier, a protector, a knight—someone that may at least be a bit necessary.

His expression had also dropped, from the cheeky smile it once was to curious eyes instead, still eager for acceptance and praise. When he was instead met with further mockery, his brows drew together as a response with a frown pulling at the edge of his lips.

"Oh, you are quite right to claim me as your king and commander," the god drawled slowly as he stepped toward the inventor, tossing the elegant little inventions he had been given up and down in his hand, "but I have no need for your  _pathetic_  excuse for manpower when I have an army waiting for me that surpasses you in quantity and quality." A taunting laugh passed his lips, "No, it would do better to call you… a pawn."

A flash of strangled and unsure emotion passed in Stark's face, taking on the hit to his pride but also compelled by the sheer force of alien will to override all other systems that would normally cause him to lash back. It took a moment for everything to align in his head, but until then his inner turmoil was quite visible indeed.

Yet a second later there was just a quiet swallow as Loki watched the man with a sense of wicked delight, and a forced chuckle. "Hey, I can be whatever you need, baby."

Ah. Somehow he was still able to save face despite the mockery.

It actually managed to amuse the trickster enough to actually laugh. Oh, how funny it was now that he was given his own personal jester to mock and scoff at. Was this how the Asgardians viewed him? Squirming for praise and attention when clearly there was none to be given?

It made the god's lips curve into a foul grin indeed.

"Oh, I'm well aware, and you  _shall_  be everything that I desire, Stark," Loki gave an easy smile in return, chin tilted upwards in a display of arrogance.

His inner beasts had been stirred now as this brought back too many memories. It was all too easy to recall how the gods would play with the  _prince_  of them all; their offered and dishonest opportunities to succeed when it was clear to everyone that could never actually  _be_  anything that was expected of him. "Throw a dog a bone", wasn't that they quaint saying?

"I seek quite a bit of you," Loki lied as easily as he breathed, "and you will prove yourself to be a sound investment. Something superior to the foolish Agent Barton who is clearly of no use to me now that he's gone and been caught in a web woven by some vindictive woman. And you shall not disappoint."

The mirror of misfortune stared back at Loki as he watched the mortal's eyes seem to take on an even lighter shade of blue, perhaps excited for the chance to prove himself. Something else passed through his expression and he wondered idly if it was Stark's soul moving about within his body. He wasn't sure—

Or perhaps more accurately, he wasn't certain if he actually cared.

"Well it'd be a crying shame if I did," Tony quipped quickly enough, "and it's best if no one will be shedding any tears here today."

Good. He'd taken the bait then.

It would only be all the sweeter when Loki could remind the man of just how worthless he truly was in the grand scheme of things. Let him feel the uselessness and lack of purpose that had been felt when spiraling off the bridge made of light, spiraling down further and further into the darkness.

Such a thing could only be sweet.

"But according to my calculations, even with Clint at the wheel, we don't have much time before the Quinjet gets here. So about the communication device, you have to—"

"Place the one with the faint residue of adhesive to my collar in order to transmit my words and naturally place the other within my ear so I may be able to hear whatever pearls of wisdom you may offer, correct?" Loki didn't bother waiting as he proceeded to do just that.

"Uh… yeah," the mortal blinked, apparently stupefied and Loki could only take it as an offense to his intelligence. He did just that.

At least until the man proceeded to beam at him.

"Great," Stark smiled – and it was an actual smile, small as it was, directed at the Norse God of Mischief for the first time in what felt like eons and it did remarkably unpleasant things to his chest and throat for reasons he was unsure of – before adding, "I expected you to catch on faster than Thor who more or less gave up on it, but you really blew him right out of the water."

… uncomfortable.

Loki did not enjoy the way that the words made him look elsewhere, away from the remarkably pleased look that Stark wore when he looked upon the god. He had just finished getting ready to destroy the man internally and suddenly he was being heaped by the same mortal's praise. It was not as if Loki was a stranger to any sort of compliment—

But when was the last time he had been chosen over Thor?

Perhaps 'chosen' was too kind of a word, but the crux of the argument still lay bare. He had succeeded where his brother had terribly failed and earned the delight of some  _mortal_  in return. That was nothing to be proud of, he told himself.

(Even if the man himself was boasted a genius and a sorcerer of his own right in terms of technology in this world. That did not elevate his position at all, Loki reminded himself.)

A pawn. A pawn with a clever tongue that would no longer cause Loki problems, even if it needed to be severed from his mouth.

It was only after making that promise that the trickster refocused himself, glancing back when he heard the clanking of metal feet against the landing. Apparently Stark had a wardrobe change in the time that he left Loki to his own thoughts and was now re-suited in a different set of armor sans helmet.

Trying to bring back a sense of normalcy for himself, the god smiled dangerously, "No matter what you adorn yourself in, you are not suited to be a knight, Stark."

Though apparently the other upped his defenses and only gave a smile, "Worried about me, schnookums?"

Loki made it perfectly clear that he did not with a firm shove between Tony's shoulder blades.

A wicked and remorseless grin found its way on his face as he watched the mortal's eyes widen in response, thrown off-balance and subsequently off the landing pad, hurtling down to the concrete jungle beneath.

There was no disguising the laugh of maniacal joy that tore itself from Loki's throat, not ceasing a bit even as Tony rejoined him, shooting up and hovering by the landing pad with a decidedly unamused look on his face. Oh, he was a pawn, but certainly quite a moody one.

However as Loki met Tony's eyes with a completely shameless smile on his face, he watched the mortal's gaze soften and felt some form of satisfaction.

"Well if we're done shoving me off tall buildings for sport," the man spoke, clearly a bit short of breath, "could you hand me that?"

The god's gaze turned to see that the helmet of the suit was still being held by some sort of mechanical arm protruding from the walkway and he made a waving motion, having it suddenly appear in his hand. Clever fingers ran over the smooth lines, observing the god and the red from the outside. He knew Tony was watching him curiously and perhaps a bit hungrily, which made Loki smile all the more. To say that he wasn't an attention hog was a lie that even he could not swallow.

So he ran one finger over the area where he knew Tony's lips would normally be, enjoying the confused look on the man's face momentarily.

Then he supercharged his magic and launched the helmet in his direction.

It was remotely impressive that the mortal was able to catch the helmet before it hit him directly in the face, especially since Tony still hadn't taken his eyes off of Loki in the time being, the bemused expression still settled upon his features. Then it was a shake of his head before he placed the helmet on not a moment later.

Loki merely gave a shallow shrug that he did not mean at all, "Silver tongue, loose fingers."

Perhaps it shouldn't have amused him as much as it did when the mortal's voice came as a purr directly into his ear, "Hey, I'd let those fingers be all over me."

It prompted a slight arch of one eyebrow and a perhaps too sly upturn of the god's lips as it occurred to him that the mortal pawn was  _flirting_  with him as if he had a chance. There weren't words available for that besides 'darling' and 'precious'.

To be honest, it was just one more thing Loki decided he could use to break the genius a little bit more.

Suddenly, a pillar of blue light flashed into the sky, energy surging and Loki could feel the sudden expanse of magic and mystery flooding his own veins. It was clear that it was time for the game to change entirely.

A connection opened up in his mind and something hissed at him that  _now_  was the time.

The Chitauri were coming.

 

* * *

 

"Either Stark Industries is celebrating the Fourth of July two months early or things just got started, fellas," Natasha offered her odd sense of humor as the Quinjet approached the Stark Tower, having just made it in time to watch the sharp addition of unearthly blue make its appearance on the skyline.

A hand was placed on the back of her seat as Steve spoke through gritted teeth, "I thought the tower itself was an eyesore."

Clint couldn't help but manage a laugh as he guided the jet expertly through the maze of skyscrapers, "Don't let Stark hear you say that."

"How fast was he even going?" the redhead finally let a bit of her exasperation slip out as he toggled some of the buttons in front of her.

They had fallen far behind Stark once he had gone supersonic on them, flying at speeds that the Quinjet simply wasn't ready for. In the time it took them to arrive, they had devised multiple battle strategies between the three of them, taking in all members of the Avengers into account and adjusting the plan according to how many of them would actually be available.

The fact that Tony hadn't been heard from in that entire period prodded at all of their minds, having cut off transmission as soon as his conversation with Clint had been concluded as far as he was concerned.

None of them wanted to mention that they might have to remove Tony from all of the plans they concocted if he didn't show up soon.

"Too fast," Steve finally answered with a huff, "He's been out there alone for too long and hasn't reported back. His suit was badly damaged too. Do you think he ran into trouble?"

"Well no, I'm sure he and Loki had a nice chat over tea and crumpets," the archer among them grumbled. There was no need to point out the obvious venom behind the god's name.

Yet no one mentions the collective ease when they see a familiar figure of red and gold shoot up in the air, just enough to get out of the way from a different blast of blue, notably from a figure of  _green_  and gold. After that, it's Iron Man shooting up into the air and on his way to tackle the first wave of the Chitauri.

Steve beams and to no one in particular, calls out, "That's a trooper!"

The hope in his voice is practically palpable.

Unable to keep from rolling her eyes at the display of energy, Natasha immediately tries to get onto locking onto the frequency that Iron Man is tuned in on. She places a hand against her headset and speaks, "Stark, we're here." She flips a switch that should transfer everything that Tony says to the speaker system and they wait.

They wait for some sort of snarky comment about what took them so long, whether he needs to upgrade SHIELD's equipment to keep up with him or if they stopped for drive-through.

There's nothing.

Eyes narrowing dangerously like a crossed cat, Natasha is forced to state the obvious, "Communications unresponsive."

Irritated and already preparing the weapons systems to take some shots at the god standing perched on Stark Tower, Clint can't help but provide the dose of sarcasm where Tony had failed to.

"Real team player, isn't he?"

 

* * *

 

Without a doubt, Loki had picked the most foolish mortal to occupy his time with.

All too easily, he shot down the Quinjet when it made its pathetic attempt to try to get him to stand out and really it was just a repeat of Stuttgart. Oh, when would these mortals ever learn? That didn't require even a fraction of his brain power.

No, he was too busy thinking of the way that Tony realized that the Quinjet was coming first, something about the man's technology being remarkably useful.

Now perhaps Tony Stark's mind was a puzzle but this one wasn't too hard for Loki to figure out, especially as he seemed to be quite adamant and determined when his voice had buzzed into the god's ear just moments earlier with a simple command:

_Attack me_.

Not one to take orders but able to catch on quickly enough, Loki was happy to give his best sinister smile and took out some of the frustration out on the man of Iron, aiming a charged blast of his scepter at him before watching the man fly up into the air.

His gaze had followed Tony as he seemed to be making a few haphazard shots at the Chitauri, hitting some but hardly providing an actual defense. At least he was certainly putting on the show that he was  _trying_. The level of trickery involved managed to coax a slightly amused smile out of the god now that no one could see. He could definitely appreciate the ingenuity of some old-fashioned double-agent techniques.

Suddenly adorning his full armor and standing upon his personal pedestal, Loki observed the metal suit as it flew across the horizon.

Another simple prompt buzzed in his ear as if Tony knew that Loki was watching him.

" _Trust me_. _"_

An abrupt thump and slight rocking of the ground beneath his feet made the trickster's head turn, facing Thor who wore a decidedly solemn look on his face. Green eyes observed the heaving, angry form of the Norse God of Thunder. So this is what became of the one he once called his brother, lumped in with the insects of the mortal realm.

"Brother!" he called out, showing just how far in the past he dwelled, "Cease this madness!"

So Loki's lips spread into a wicked smile and if he spoke a bit more into his collar than to the man beneath him, there was no one to notice.

" _Never_."

 

* * *

 

There wasn't a single time in his life when Tony Stark was able to think in a linear fashion.

It was clear since he was young that his brain was simply wired a different way, capable of glorious, gigantic things only because of the way that he thought. There was no simple thing about the process, instead he pulled information from every single bit of knowledge he had compiled over the years.

After burying himself in books and texts during boarding school especially, Tony had a lot to choose from.

As opposed to single file lines – which Tony always had a hatred for even in real life when he made faces at those things called grocery markets – it was a game of Chutes and Ladders in Tony's head.

Thinking about an apple would never simply be thinking about an apple. One part of his brain would be considering the taste and the selfishness of whether or not he actually wanted to eat it. Another part would be thinking about the chemical make-up of the apple, pondering the nutrients and whether or not it would actually help his body. Another portion of his brain would be considering the symbolism of the apple, used in places from the Bible to that terrible teen paranormal romance series that was sweeping the nation and convincing Tony that the next generation was going to be in deep shit. And yet another area of his brain would be completely distracted from the apple itself, reminded of Isaac Newton and the theory of gravity and "what must come up, must come down".

From there it went further.

The tangent of hunger would continue on its own as Tony pondered exactly what he wanted to eat at the time. The tangent of nutrients proceeded on as well as he considered other items in the apple's food group, branching off to pears and oranges. Symbolism would instead become literary analysis and wondering if the color red had anything to do with it. Gravity would proceed on to the broader expanses of the universes and he would be considering Johannes Kepler and his theories on space because Stark Industries had been considering drabbling in that field now—

Lines didn't do it for Tony. Clearly.

Yet now, with the alien force intruding in his brain, all the above almost became obsolete. However it deserved to be explained for why it was  _almost_  true.

Within Tony's mind there existed a world of its own, functioning on different levels and depths. There would be paths that lead to other thoughts, some of them on very broad and obvious streets, others like the back alleyways to get to the really good, exciting stuff. Even though there was so much to play with, he was used to being the only occupant.

This was no longer the case.

The Tesseract and Reality fought to bring information to Tony's brain, mixing in fact with science fiction in a way that even the genius's imaginative mind had no thought of before. Just as there was an argument to deliver fact, there was an argument on how to perceive it.

Fact had Tony face to face with this disgusting alien creature that looks like it was dreamt up just for the purpose of scaring children at night. It had guttural growls and feral noises filling up his ears. Sounds of metal scratching against concrete as he's dragged firmly against the building, as well as the feeling of his limbs trailing behind the rest of his body at the speed they're going. Rough and bumpy as he's jostled this way and that.

Tony, the real and captive and no longer master of his own mind Tony, felt every shake and jolt going through his body, right down to the feeling of dread when the beast screeches at him. His mind was still working quickly, considering how to remove the threat before it starts to attack some of the people who are still running about like the world was ending.

He gave them the benefit of the doubt because as far as they were concerned, it probably was.

(Yet the complications exists here, where the version of himself that was newly created and invaded by the Tessearct, the stuff they tried to put  _in_  his brain, is just as determined and twice as loud as the captive part of his brain. It exists in the way that superfluous information does, important enough to mention but still meriting nothing more than sentences within parentheses according to Tony's self-centered mind.

He just went out of his way to pick which 'self' he wished to be centered upon.)

In Tony's head, the war sounds like this:

The Chitauri are ugly and dangerous, they need to be swept off the streets before they started clawing at innocent civilians. They're nothing but real eyesores, the way that there's so many of them flying about.

(Why Loki needs them, he really has no clue. Sure, they're great in number but he's offended to think that they might be of higher quality than himself. That was a bold-faced lie and the god absolutely had to see the wrong of his ways. Maybe then he'll get it that Tony really is the best that he can do.)

He's pulling at every shackle and chain in his mental prison, trying to commandeer his body once more. It's a time when he's cursing at his own brilliant mind because it really does look like he's trying to get at the Chitauri and just barely missing- however that bare miss is enough to set a car on fire and prompt an explosion that could hurt the people around it.

(Though in the end, these people were just idiots who believed whatever the media said. Whether Tony was a hero or a villain for sure, they never knew. They may love him for the time being but soon enough he could be the Merchant of Death again as a result of a misunderstanding. What was the use of these people who couldn't even think for themselves?)

Except he cannot but feel some sort of pride as he hears the struggle between Thor and Loki buzzing into his ear. Though of course that is stopped short when he hears Loki's ruse and the burning utterance of the word  _sentiment_  just before there is most rustling and finally Thor's voice is simply gone. Something seizes in Tony's chest when he realizes that he's not even sure if the blond god is even alive or dead.

(But it is worth noting that if he is dead, that's one less Avenger to be worried about. His orders still exist to kill them all and he still hadn't devised a full-proof strategy against the god in case they ever had to enter combat against one another. Though there is another slight swell of pride when he realizes that Loki had bested Thor this time, even if it took a trick to do it.)

Deep in the recesses of his own heart, Tony can't help but pledge that he absolutely hates Loki.

(Somewhere in the confines of his mind, he feels his respect and admiration grow.)

 

* * *

 

Tony had nightmares like this.

He would be in the Iron Man suit, flying about and shooting at the villains of his sleep, knocking them out of the sky and sending them careening into the street. He wouldn't have time to stop and apprehend them, instead having to move on because there would always be more. There wouldn't be a single moment to stop and think because the city was under attack and he didn't have time to stop and wonder about what happened to the antagonists he had already defeated. Who thought about them?

In the end, there would be no end. The fighting would end only when Tony would wake in the middle of the night, coated in his own sweat as he jolted out of his dream. However the images of a city on fire would remain burned into his eyelids for days, the only way to make them go away was to acquaint himself with his good friend named Scotch.

New York was now the city on fire.

Held captive in his own head, he could not even blink away the images, instead left watching as he flew the familiar streets and sometimes a shot would be fired in the direction of a Chitauri before missing, entirely on purpose, and setting another part of the city crumble.

With every fallen building, another piece of Tony's imaginary heart would break.

It was a clever ploy, he thought, and it didn't surprise him at all that he thought of it. He cut off all outward communications and it was a new suit, so they couldn't hold it against him if he was too busy holding off aliens to bother picking up the phone for the first part of the battle. What his teammates didn't know was that he actually managed to hear every word that they said—he just didn't return the favor.

There would occasionally be a cry of "Stark, watch your aim!" or "Tony, be more careful than that!" even though they didn't even know he could hear them.

However they were just as easily set off by the number of times they said "Nice shot, Iron Man" or "Just a few more, Stark" because there was no way the lie could be believed if Tony missed every time. So what was a Chitauri alien or two if he got to make up for it by setting some buildings and such on fire instead? There had to be a balance, he knew, or else he would run the risk of being found out.

That was the main worry of his active self, Tony realized sometime after another car exploded before his eyes after some half-assed attempt to shoot a laser at a ground-based Chitauri. He just didn't want to be caught. If he was caught, they knew exactly how to reverse the symptoms.

(Supposedly. The entire situation was different now that the alien energy had intermingled with the energy radiating from the arc reactor, engulfing his body and inflicting his veins with alien forces.)

Yet as much as he had sickened him, he felt it. He felt everything that occurred in his body, right down to the pang of pain every time Loki shot him down when he had his hopes up. He felt the hope that existed when the god said that perhaps he could be  _better_  than Barton, offering praise to be taken if it could be earned.

Tony was a sucker for attention, after all.

"Steve? Hey Cap, can you hear me?"

His own voice was speaking now, finally deciding to open outgoing communications as well as incoming, starting up a conversation with the designated field leader of their merry crew.

"Tony?" And his heart fell further into the pit of his stomach as he heard the joy in that voice. "Yeah, I can hear you! What happened? Were your communication lines jammed?"

"New suit, had to break it in, Cap. Sorry for being MIA," the lies flowed too easily off his own tongue and Tony hated the fact that he had so much practice. "Hey, I've finally got a lock on your location so I'll be there in a sec. The gang all together yet?"

"Yeah," and Steve actually  _laughed_ , sounding practically relieved and there was absolutely no way to shake off the feeling of horror, "Now that you've chimed in? Banner and Thor just dropped in too. We're all together."

Tony's lips curled into a smile that he didn't mean, "Great. Then I'm bringing the party to you."

It was an abrupt turn and the strange whale-like craft that Iron Man had captured the attention of before was following after.

Tony went numb.

No one could fight this thing off; he realized that when he had tested his lasers out on it earlier. It was difficult enough to get its attention hard-skinned as it was, but actually defeating it? Impossible. It'd take a suicide mission and a lot of firepower, which none of the Avengers actually had.

Which was why it was being led straight to them.

As he saw the group of them standing there, staring at the alien force floating through the sky, chasing after the metallic man, he wanted to yell. Scream. Tell them to get out of the way because there was no way for them to step out of this alive. When Bruce seemed to turn and start walking  _toward_  it, Tony wasn't sure what to do.

Bruce was strong, mentally, physically, and every way possible. But Tony couldn't let this be the way that it happened- his friend wasn't supposed to have his first fight be a suicide mission. He wasn't, he couldn't—

Then Iron Man flew up, leaving the alien crashing down upon the street and coming hurtling at his teammate. A smirk started to curl up in his lips as he watched, ready to report to his god that the Avengers were all dead and sitting in the stomach of some damn space whale.

Until he suddenly had to dodge alien entrails.

Bruce had gone mean and green on the damn thing, stepping forward and slamming it into the ground, the scales of it peeling which Hawkeye's keen eyes didn't miss. After that it was Thor's quick thinking to summon lighting and sent a mighty electrical charge through the beast, bringing about an explosion that was enough to light up the city.

Gritting his teeth and glad for the mask, it would seem that this wouldn't be as easy as he had first thought.

Meanwhile in his cage, Tony had never wanted to call anyone his  _team_  quite so much.

 

* * *

 

" _Stark, what do you think you're doing? Watch for those civilians…!"_

" _Come on Cap, I've got it, just trust me."_

"…  _I do trust you, just be more careful."_

Loki could not and did not fight off the laugh that bubbled out of his throat as he had perched himself on a new building, watching the rampant destruction around him and staying out of the Avengers' way. No, this was much more enjoyable simply to watch.

The chaos was completely underway, the Chitauri roaming the streets as the heroes did their best to fight. However the fact of the matter was that they were completely outnumbered—

By one more than any of them ever thought.

The communication device that Stark gave him proved more than entertaining, able to lock on to whatever conversations were going on in the Iron Man suit, even the formations that Barton pointed out and the directions that Captain America shouted at them all.

Then there was Tony, ever the actor as he continued to feign innocence even when Loki could see that he was quite poorly hiding the way that he destroyed the streets, claiming to miss two times out of five. Poorly calibrated systems, he had said, and at some point Barton had even offered to commandeer the suit to improve its aim!

How laughable.

It would only be a matter of time, he decided. Eventually even Thor would tire and be unable to summon any more lightning to turn the aliens into a crisp and the number of invaders would only grow. None seemed to even consider closing the portal yet, after all.

Oh simple, foolish, weak mortals.

With that thought, Loki merely flicked his cape over his shoulders as he went to commandeer another transportation vehicle when there was a very  _different_  shade of green catching his eye.

He wasn't prepared.

His back meant concrete with a crash as he was tackled right off that building and into the street, the movement apparently catching Barton's eye as it buzzed into his ear.

" _Hey guys, I think the Hulk found someone that we've been looking for."_

Curse him, Loki thought, he should have just ended him while he had the chance. Now there was more irritating buzzing as Captain America ordered Natasha to go, 'get answers on how to close the portal, Widow, the rest of us will fend the rest of them off'. So there was to be a gathering, hm?

But it was clear that neither the Hulk nor Thor had these communication devices, otherwise his neanderthal of an adopted sibling would already be on his way over. The Hulk didn't seem to have any other intentions than throwing Loki once more, temporarily halting the god's train of thought.

"Enough!" Loki snarled after being knocked aside for the third time, earning the dull creature's befuddled look. "I am a  _god_  and I will not be shoved around by some poor excuse for a human being." He took a breath and his lips curled into a sneer once more, "Though it's quite grand to see your  _true colors_  as a  _monster_ , Dr. Banner."

The Hulk pinned him with a glare.

For the first time since he'd arrived on Midgard, Loki then felt apprehensive.

In his childhood, he and Thor had gone to other realms and faced hideous beasts. Loki was able to outsmart them with magic and superior speed, distracting them in time for Thor to be able to land the finishing blow.

He knew at the moment that he lacked two of three key components: speed and Thor.

A huge, tense hand grasped at the god's throat and proceeded to knock him about, leaving him breathless and pained as he felt his body getting thrown around. There was pain, shockingly, and it seared his system like a harsh burn after going so long untouched. It didn't stop.

There was a final crack as he felt himself being hurled through the air again and even in his ear, there was a buzz of  _"Hulk, stop"_  but there wasn't a stop, only a pause.

For when green eyes opened again, the creature still stared at him, disgusting and grotesque eyes piercing into his soul. His ego and body both felt battered as he wasn't unsure what action to take. Spells hummed around his brain and he thought that perhaps, perhaps he would be able to get away still. Just give him a moment, a simple moment—

A moment was not available as a green fist was suddenly raised.

" _Loki!"_

Why his name was being called, he wasn't sure. Certainly neither Barton nor Captain America would be too distressed if he was temporarily out of commission. Although the Hulk was a formidable foe, he still was not capable of killing a god with a punch. Wasn't this what everyone wanted to happen?

Until he realized that the voice calling was neither the pathetic agent nor the man out of time.

Reality and memories intertwined as a spell continued to reverberate in Loki's brain, watching as everything around him occurred remarkably slowly. The punch was thrown but air was displaced and suddenly there was a flash of red and gold.

He blinked.

This was not the image of his brother defending him, standing before him to either block or deflect a blow without facing a scratch against the enemy, full of confidence and valor. Thor was and is a god, able to withstand many scratches and go head to head with the Hulk.

This was not Thor.

This was Tony Stark, the Man of Iron suddenly before him and arms outstretched as if to embrace the fist of the Hulk, aiming to take the blow as opposed to guiding it elsewhere. This was the man with a will of steel, offering himself to be broken.

This was a pawn, diving headlong into the fray to save his king.

This was—

_Crash._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. (:


End file.
